Pilot
by Niabi Earthsong
Summary: Having lost her trainer and herself in an unknown region, Erin finds herself in a bit of trouble. Her unlikely rescuer becomes an even less likely partner in competitions held and participated in by wild Pokemon. She never knew the world of wild Pokemon could be so savage, and so civilized. Rated T for some Adult Language, Violence, and Suggestive Situations. Please R & R!
1. Chapter 1

**!Disclaimer!**

Pokemon is the property of Nintendo.

_Dedicated to the Archer of my heart._

**A/N: **This is my first stab at a Pokemon fanfic. I was mostly wanting to do a comic for this story but I figured it would be easier if I actually wrote it out first and then tried to illustrate it later. Please read and review! Any comments or suggestions would be greatly appreciated. I'm kind of flying by the seat of my pants with this one because I don't have the entire plot lined out yet. Enjoy! I'm marking this as M just to be safe for later chapters. - Ni

* * *

_ 'How long...?'_

"Chu... chu... pi..." she panted, unable to form words from exhaustion, weakly groaning her name as she hobbled on. The pain in her belly was intense, her head throbbing; her eyes nearly swollen shut from blood and tears. Her tiny yellow body shook as she took short, clumsy steps through the gnarled green-and-brown-and-black undergrowth. She couldn't walk on all fours, for she was unable to move her left arm, and when she tried she felt a splintering, like pins and needles awakening and shooting themselves in all directions. She could think of nothing else but to move on, to get away. She couldn't concentrate on the pain or she may stop where she was. Her trainer was beyond her help now. She couldn't go back. She had failed.

_ 'Where am I...?'_

She was lost in an unfamiliar region, sure to become the dinner of a wild Pokémon. Vaguely, she was aware that it was strange to have gone so far as she had from her starting point without seeing another. And she still did not know why the Mightyenas had let her live. Was it because she too was a Pokémon? She didn't think that they would have that sort of code of honor. She had heard wild Pokémon hated trainers. However, she knew not what living in the wild meant to her kind. She was born at a Daycare Center. A gift to a little pigtailed girl who loved her from the moment she hatched as a Pichu. She sobbed, and a searing pain lanced through her chest, fire over her heart and lungs. _'Broken rib...'_

_ 'Why didn't they just kill me...?'_

How could they have let her live knowing her trainer was dead? Now she was all alone in the wilderness, and she would die, slowly and painfully. Unless she could be lucky enough to come across another hungry pack of wild Pokémon, that is. And where was Alice? She didn't want to think about it, but the hyena Pokémon were surely enjoying a meal of her. So lost in her own thoughts, she was barely aware it had begun to rain, as it was so dark in this part of the forest already; the only sign was a sudden dampening of her fur. Could she just die now? Why in the name of Arceus was she still alive?

Her small foot caught on a root sticking wickedly from the ground in her path and she tumbled to the ground, landing on her already broken arm. "Kaaaaa," she whined as she struggled to roll on to her back, thinking to herself that particular root was there just to mock her continued existence. This was it. She couldn't get up now, and she would not try. She had thought she would have run out of tears by now, but there they were again, rolling down her face in heavy rivulets. She managed to prop herself against a rock, and she would go no further. This rock would make a suitable marker for her grave. The grave of a pathetic excuse for a Pokémon who had run from her trainer when there was no longer hope of saving her. _'I was a coward.' _

She closed her eyes and remembered the girl who was her trainer. Such a sweet girl she was. She spoiled her Pichu, loved her, and made her so happy she evolved into a Pikachu without ever seeing battle. That day, Alice had given her a scarf that she knit herself; the scarf that now hung in ribbons, soiled and ruined, from her neck. She silently cursed the girl's mother for allowing her to leave home at ten years old with just a pet to protect her. That was all Pikachu was; a pet. Not a Pokémon, a pet to be played and snuggled with. Sure, she could battle, but she knew nothing of the world, nothing of the cruelty of wild Pokémon. She had no idea she would be fighting for the life of the girl who hatched her. Or that she could lose.

_ 'Alice, I'm sorry.'_

Her ears pricked up at a sound of rustling. She opened her eyes slowly, her vision blurred by tears. Red, the color of rust, and a flickering light. It was another wild Pokémon. The sight infuriated her. A Charmeleon, in the rain, found her. He must be hungry to risk putting out the fire on his tail. She felt her cheek pouches crackle with static. The Charmeleon knelt before her, and reached out as if to touch her.

"Chuuuu!" She growled, electricity leaping from her body and zapping the fire Pokémon that was about to touch her. The Charmeleon winced but his claws made contact with her cheek and he cupped her small, furry face. She tried to flinch away, but his claws stayed in place.

"Shhhh," he cooed to her. She couldn't understand it. Would he torture her too? How dare he play with his food like that? "CHUUU!" She unleashed a bolt of lightning that should have harmed them both, but she was increasingly weak, and again he merely flinched. He tilted her head up and looked into her eyes. He looked surprised by what he saw, his expression readable through the widening of his own deep brown eyes. She prepared to release more electricity but he cupped her face with his other hand as her cheeks flashed.

"Hush now; you'll only hurt yourself worse. If you lose all your energy now I won't be able to help you." She didn't get it. "Pi-pi-" He shook his head and frowned. "I said 'hush'. You will die. Do you understand?" She managed a nod, and he looked around. They were around the same size; he appeared to be small for a Charmeleon. She didn't know how he was going to help her, and as it turned out, neither did he.

Charmeleon was far from home as well, and Pikachu was fading fast. He had to do something for her. He couldn't carry her without hurting her worse, and he wouldn't make it far on foot. She noticed he seemed to be looking for something, and she again ignored his warning. It took nearly all she had to get out these words:

"It's... It's okay-r-really... You-you will die too, y-you know, if you st-stay..." She gulped and managed a small smile. "I'm t-too heavy... for you to carry..."

He seemed furious with her, or perhaps with himself at her words. He looked down at his hands, frowning at his own smallness. He was useless; he couldn't help her. In his own way, he too had failed. He looked at Pikachu again, and saw the sorrow in her unusually green eyes. And that was when it happened.

The Charmeleon's body was completely engulfed in a brilliant light, and his form began to change shape and elongate. Pikachu forced her eyes shut against the brightness, but she could see it burning through her swollen eyelids. The light dissipated and her eyes fluttered open.

Before she had a chance to get a look at him, Charizard gingerly lifted her small, furry body. She felt a momentary increase in pain, and let out a weak protest. Once settled in his arms, she felt warm and protected, despite her wounds. There was a mighty whooshing sound and she felt them leave the ground. Her vision went black.

She dreamed she was soaring across the sky.

_'Look, Alice. I can fly.'_

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**A/N: **So the continuation of this story will probably depend on the reviews. I'm planning chapter 2 out right now, and I will be posting at least that. Thanks everyone. - Ni


	2. Chapter 2

**!Disclaimer!**

Pokemon is the property of Nintendo.

_Dedicated to the Archer of my heart._

* * *

The past week had been one day of beautiful weather after another. As if Arceus himself were excited for the beginning of spring. What better setting to usher in the start of the races that made the Haven Isles famous among the Pokémon metropolises? Éclair could only think of one improvement on that: her boss, a rotund Blissey, back from vacation to help the little Clefairy with what she knew would be a sudden influx of Pokémon needing the touch of a healer. They would surely be practicing even harder with the Haven Tourney only months away. Not that she didn't have her hands full as it was with the normal scrapes and bruises; and her being an apprentice, a nervous and possibly neurotic one at that, her small amount of experience was already being tested. Just yesterday, she had to figure out how to unkink the vines of a very pained Bulbasaur, after they had been stepped on by a Rydon. And several days before that—and incidentally the very day Doc had left on vacation to visit family in Kanto—she had to force fresh Oran Berries down the throat of an Ekans who was feeling ill from a batch of long overripe ones. In all, the experiences were generally unpleasant when she had to face them on her own.

Still, none of them compared to the surprise she had gotten late the night before. Éclair bit her lip and decided to peek in on her newest patient. She put down a book of home remedies that she had been too distracted to actually read and padded across the wood floors of the sitting room to the hallway that would lead her to the beds they kept for the smaller Pokémon that would have to stay overnight. Due to the nature of their services, the Doc and she had one of the nicest tree houses in their part of the village. Their healing being practically free of charge in most cases, the village Pokémon had helped them construct their little makeshift hospital and keep it in good repair. Of course, the main floor where they did all their healing was on the ground, but Éclair and Doc had their own rooms in the branches of the tree that was the foundation of their little hospital. She made it to the room in question, found the door to be cracked, and knocked quietly with her small pink fist.

"Eh, knock-knock!" She tried to sound cheerful, but she couldn't keep the nervous waiver from her voice as she pushed the door open all the way to view the occupants. "I'm just here to check on Pikachu," she explained as she padded into the small room. It contained a tiny cot, a nightstand with a single candle, and a small round window. Not to mention the tiny yellow mouse sleeping in said cot and the hulking dragon that refused to leave her side since bringing her here the previous night who was currently seated in the corner facing the door. His gaze fell upon Éclair. She walked over to Pikachu who was in a fitful slumber, her breathing shallow. The Clefairy frowned. She really was out of her level of expertise with the girl's injuries. She checked Pikachu's bandages and examined the splint her tiny arm was affixed to. She then placed a hand on the mouse's forehead and found it hot. '_She's still running a fever,' _she thought to herself. She could feel the fire-type's gaze burning in to the back of her neck and she turned to face him.

"Ah, so, Mr. Archer?" She began, the end of her sentence sounding like a question. "Has she woken up at all?"

He frowned at her, and shook his head. "No." His voice was a deep rumble. She suddenly felt very self-conscious and couldn't stand to be in the room anymore. Perhaps checking on the mouse was a bad idea at this time. The Charizard still hadn't told her where Pikachu's injuries stemmed from. She wondered briefly if they had been caused by him. She shook her head inwardly, as if ashamed to think of such things. Her eyes on the floor—as she could no longer look directly in to the intensity of his brown eyes—she tapped her fingertips together. "I-I will be back for more treatments soon, though I don't know what good I'll do. D'you want me to bring you some wa-AH!"

Charizard had slammed his powerful tail against the floor. The action was not loud so much as it was sudden and it interrupted her speech. She looked up at him, unguarded for just a moment, and she saw that same expression he had when he brought in the small Pokémon .

"Do NOT start with that. You WILL help her get better. Understood?" He growled low in his throat, and though he had been speaking barely above a whisper she felt as though he had spoken with the voice of an Exploud using Uproar.

"Ah, o-okay, I will," she stuttered, and scurried out of the room. She looked back at Archer once more before closing the door. He had taken his eyes off her and was gazing at the small electric mouse, covered up to her chin in a thin blanket.

"A-alice… Don't…" the Pikachu whined in her sleep. As far as Éclair understood, she had been talking in her sleep all night. But what really had the fairy Pokémon 's attention was the look on Charizard's face as he watched over his charge. The fierce devotion in his gaze only served to remind her of his entrance the night previous. She closed the door and rested her head on the frame, remembering the events of the night.

* * *

Finally, the day was over. I could relax with a cup of tea, maybe read a book until I fall asleep. Oh, how absolutely giddy was I that surly Ekans had left and now I could have peace of mind and rest, which, I knew, was sorely needed after a day of messing everything up! If I dropped one more glass and had to sweep it up I would scream.

"I don't get paid enough to do this job," I mused to myself, bustling about the kitchen to heat a tea pot on the wood stove. Thankfully I had remembered to keep the damn thing lit today; otherwise I would just give up on the idea of tea. There were no fire-types staying at the hospice and there was no way I would try and Metronome and hope for a fire move. It sucked, being a Celfairy with no real control of my species' signature move. I was sure that same lack of control was what made me such a failure as a nurse. Doc always sighed to me about a beautiful human by the name of Nurse Joy who could heal any injury, even without the use of their fancy human machines. The tone in the Blissey's voice always made me burn with envy, and invariably drop whatever I was holding. One day I would ask him why he left.

"Yeah, that would teach him," I shook my tiny pink fist. It's the small victories in life, after all.

It was at that moment that three things happened all at once. The kettle started to whistle, there was a ruckus at the front door, and I head a wailing that could only mean the resident mental case had been woken up. I didn't know what to attend to first. But I settled with pulling the pot off the stove—without spilling it, much to my momentary satisfaction—and running for the door fast as my little legs could carry me.

"Gaaadawaaa~! Gaaadawaaa~!" Was the singsong cry that came from one of the permanent patient rooms. He would have to wait. For, the banging at the door was near deafening. And… What was that? A roar?

"Hold your Rapidash, I'm coming!" I said more to myself than whosoever was entreating entry to the hospice. The large wooden door before me was large enough to accommodate most Pokémon, and had a smaller door cut in to on side that allowed for a Pokémon of smaller stature such as me to reach the handle. I opened the smaller door and the sight that met my eyes was one I was not soon to forget: a fully grown Charizard, eyes and tail burning hot, holding a ball of bright—albeit soiled—yellow fur in his muscled arms. I was shocked by the image before me. The determination and superiority of the dragon that held on to a weak and limp creature, with only the purpose in his heart to save the pathetic thing was both beautiful and terrifying. Perhaps even iconic. Something about him was so familiar, but that couldn't be right because I wasn't acquainted with any local Charizards, as they kept largely to themselves and hardly stayed around for anything but the Tourney games.

And then it hit me. "Archer?! When did you—" the Charizard cut me off by squeezing past me into the entryway. As a Charmeleon I had seen to plenty of his injuries—and they were always rather serious. He was so small, the other Pokémon seemed to do nothing but pick on him. He had his fair share of fights and eventually anyone with sense knew not to mess with him. I didn't rightly know all the details, but he did something and ever since then… They all looked up to him.

"She's hurt, fix her." He growled at me, and I couldn't help but frown at his brusque demand. I walked over to him and he knelt so I could see the bundle of shivering fur in his arms, but he didn't loosen his hold on it. It was a Pikachu. In sore shape it appeared.

"What happened?" I asked him, and he stood and looked down at me with narrowed eyes.

"Don't worry about it, just do your job." Oh, I had heard that one from this same mouth many a time before. There was no doubting who it was. His eyes, though. Those were different. Where before when he said those words to me needing treatment for various wounds, he would never look me in the eye, and always sounded defensive. He hit me, head on, with this blazing look that told me all I needed to know: he was worried about the Pikachu and wouldn't leave until she was better. There was a loyalty and a fondness in the way he cradled the mouse in his arms. And I was surprised to see it there in someone so known for having loyalty only to himself. I had to help her despite my short-comings or he would never forgive me.

* * *

Éclair came back to the present with a jolt, and stood up straight from leaning on the doorframe outside the patient's room. Silent as a shadow and softer than falling snow, a Pokémon had drifted down the hall and stood patiently a polite distance away, as if waiting for her to return from her reverie. Those all-seeing, all-knowing ruby eyes, with the piercing quality trade-marked by psychic types, were watching her steadily. She knew he was reading her thoughts, without him telling her. And without her permission. _'Rude.' _She thought in his general direction. In response she felt rather than saw the impression of a smile, and the warmth of a friendly hug. She tried to shrug it off and the feeling dissipated.

"Zero, you should go back to bed," she said out loud, pattering over him with the learned—rather than felt—maternal air she had copied from Doc. The male Gardevoir watched her approach silently, and regarded her with amusement. He knew her for what she was: a phony. She knew and loathed that about him. As much as she loved her job, she had to fake her bedside manner; the matronly, motherly healing love just didn't come naturally to her. She was by the book, which was all she would ever be able to accomplish. He had always known, and told her the day they met over a psy-link that he knew it and didn't have to be a psychic type to pick that up.

Careful not to touch him, the tiny fairy waved up at her permanent patient. "Come, I'll make you some tea. Then it's back to bed, you need your rest." Inaudible laughter made its way in her head and she saw a flash of white, and felt a hand on her head, and then…

_Soaring, high and wild, laughter blown into her throat by the wind. She didn't care. She was in love; in love with the sky, and the wind, and the freedom of flight, and the creature that brought that all to her and made it all possible. So hot and strong and loyal. She would do anything to feel this way forever. She would do anything to know that he felt this way too. This was why they had to win, this feeling, so they could have it forever. The landscape blurred beneath them, al treetops breaking way to rocky hills and rolling dales, and suddenly becoming cliffs and canyons. She pointed at something from her perch on his back, and shouted about it in excitement, but her voice was caught in the wind and—_

_Cut to a dark place, hands pressing in from all sides, but no shapes visible. She can't feel anything but a burning all over. Pain in all of her extremities. She couldn't move and could hardly breathe, and it was so hot. She couldn't get out and escape, they were holding her down. Somewhere in the distance there was a light that burned so bright it turned everything it touched red. A roar in the distance, and the screams of someon dear to her, but for some reason she can't remember their name—_

"Stop!" Éclair yelled, and Zero withdrew his hand, breaking the mindmeld. He shrugged gracefully and she could hear quiet laughter once more.

_'She'll get better, because of you.' _His voice was deep and musical in her head. _'I've seen it. And other things, some real, some I know will never happen… You won't always be this way. But it won't be any doing of your own.'_

Not making sense, as usual, and he floated away like a whisper. Her frown deepened the farthest it had in weeks. She pittered off to fetch some water for Pikachu prepared herself mentally to start the healing once more. _'One day, I'll confuse him and just walk away.'_

Small victories. Important as ever.


	3. Chapter 3

**!Disclaimer!**

Pokemon is the property of Nintendo.

_Dedicated to the Archer of my heart._

* * *

**A/N: **Sorry it took so long! I really struggled with this one. And I hoped that it would be longer and... better... Oh well. - Ni

* * *

Sometimes I find myself wishing life wasn't so predictable. This usually happens at times like these when I'm sitting and waiting at the same bar, with the same bowl of Chilan berry rum, with the usual empty seats to my right and left, and the general emptiness of the bar, but for a couple in the corner. The same hint of cinnamon and clove and the usual craving for a pipe of medicine root. And here I am, slouching with my usual graceful laziness, wearing a mask of haughty indifference despite how I might feel on the inside. That feeling is called restlessness. I'm here waiting for my boss to give me some kind of assignment: perhaps stealing evolutionary stones, smuggling enhancement drugs, or bullying new shop owners in town-you know, the usual. Usual, that is, when you're this good at being bad.

My thoughts are only interrupted enough every once and a while to notice the new-here was something unusual-barmaid eyeing me warily. How did I know she was new? Usually, the matron was an aging Persian who knew enough to turn a blind eye on business deals going on in her bar. However, with the way she stares, I know this young Miltank must have some idea as to my identity. Doubtless she had heard the stories, and there wasn't exactly an overabundance of one-eyed, alcoholic Ninetails' running around in pinstriped corsets in Haven. Especially, not ones like me with high connections to naughty friends in low places. Some stories about me must have made it to her ears judging by the way she watches me as if I am in danger of using Self-Destruct.

I honestly am not drunk enough to handle her questioning gaze, or her ill-fitting maid outfit. She keeps staring directly at my spyglass eye patch, which she obviously thinks is some kind of eccentric accessory. Little does she know, I can see her looking right at it. I keep wishing Codee would hurry up and get here so I can leave. My purplish tongue slid in and out of the bowl as I grumpily imagined scenarios of battle with the maid. It would be over quick even if she knows Rollout. Even being that intoxicated Pokémon shouldn't fight, I know a Will-o-Wisp accompanied by a Fire Blast to her pudgy gut would knock her off her feet. Just as I think this, her face in real-time mirrors the one I was picturing as the door swings open behind us. Judging by the degree of shocked on her dopey face, I know who it is.  
"G-good evening, sir! Can I get you anything?" She sputters.

"Mmmyes. A SpellTag if you got it," comes the familiar over-confident drawl from behind me and audibly drawing closer. The Miltank busies herself with Codee's request and I feel him float on to the stool on my left-my "good" side.

"Evenin' darlin'," he slurs in my direction, and even over his miasmatic poison aura I catch a whiff of alcohol. I cut my eye at him and perceive the blood red eyes and Cheshire grin of the Gengar who has been so much to me for so many years.

"Got in to the sauce early, I can smell," is my response to him. His smile hitches higher, if that is even possible, and at that moment the barmaid scurries over with his requested refreshment. She places a strip of paper with strange lettering skittering across the surface, and a shot glass full of pearlescent purple fluid on the bar top in front of Codee.

"You sure are one to talk," he states simply as he picks up the paper and slaps it to his forehead, then downs the shot in one gulp. I turn more fully to him, resting my elbow on the bar and my chin on the back of my paw.

"Pleasant as our time together always is, just tell me why you called me here so I can go home."

"Oh, Elektra, you're breakin' my heart."

I rolled my eye to the ceiling. Ghosts don't have hearts, but I know it is a moot point. Our long history notwithstanding, I have no desire to prolong this visit. I take his haunting stare head-on, expecting to see at least a small disappointment in his eyes. There isn't even the barest hint as he continues to smile full at me.

"Awright, I s'pose we'll do things your way," I notice the SpellTag slowly withdrawing into his face as if sucked in from inside. "At the least, lemme buy you another drink." I am about to mention that I am fine when I notice my mug is suddenly empty. Without waiting for my answer, he waves over the bovine mistress in the silly outfit, and she hurriedly fills my glass. I narrow my eye at him and take a tentative lick of the fluid. Finding it satisfactory I take a longer pull and sit back up to look at him

.  
I suppose I have every right to be suspicious of Codee. The ghost Pokémon had been a friend once, a lover even more briefly, but eventually became my boss and my dealer and once even left me for dead, only for me to slink back to him not too long after. I still can't say no to him. At this point, I am in too deep to quit and come clean. And the perks and pay were far too good to pass up now and more than made up for the danger and the black spot on my reputation.

"Okay. Shoot."

"Well. As you know, our sponsored team met with an unfortunate end last Tourney."

This is a fact well known to me. I was the flight mechanic for the mentioned team. I wasn't close with them and I have always avoided getting close with our teams. Many factors were involved in making that decision, but the most prevalent is the fact that the games are incredibly dangerous, and whatever the reason, our teams had an even higher mortality rate than the others. Intense training was required, but Codee often chose a pilot and co-pilot with natural talent and tendency toward hot-headedness, therefore making them just as likely to take risks as Codee himself. His reasoning for picking these kinds of Pokémon was simple: they were easy to manipulate.

Once again, this proved true for the Crobat and Poliwrath team from last year. They were strong, fast and very promising. And they let Codee convince them that cheating and sabotage were the keys to victory. And they did so, with my help and the help of Codee's other lackeys, all the way to the top. In the end, however, in a heated battle with the only other remaining team, they failed to notice they were careening toward a canyon wall. The opposing team's pilot outmaneuvered Crobat and him and the Poliwrath hit the rocks and fell to their deaths.

"We need a new team. I've noticed a potential pilot, and your job is to get him, by whatever means necessary."

The Haven Tourney brought in spectators and competitors from all over. It offered us an opportunity not only to expand our business and influence, but bets were often made. Aside from the money, the first place team received a special prize from the island chain's overseer-Mewtwo. And if that team had a sponsor, the sponsor often got a share in the prize. We had never sponsored a winning team and as yet were mostly unaware as to the nature of said prize. Codee was determined to have a winning team.

Due to our bad track record, convincing others to let us sponsor them was difficult and often we had to resort to putting teams together from Pokémon who owed us big time, promising that if they participate, their debts would be paid in full. Inevitably, they'd die during the games or get tangled up in more than they could handle. Even with my influence, getting a team together would be hard. I lacked the special skill Codee had: an innate ability to bend others to his will. Hell, if I had learned how to do that, I wouldn't be in this mess.

"I think you have the wrong girl. I'm your muscle. I can't convince others the way you can." I frown at him.

"This is a special case, my sweet," he put an emphasis on special, talking slowly as if to a child. "And if I wer'n't convinced that you were the perfect one for the job, I wouldn'ta asked ya, now would I?"

I force another eye roll. He knows I'll say yes. He knows that I can't possibly tell him no. It's not as though he is special or anything. He just has this way with me and I always fall for it.

"Who is this lucky guy you have in your sights?" I ask, as always avoiding the question.

"There is a Pokémon from Arbor Island who just recently evolved. He's been known to take on overwhelming odds and come out on top. D'you know who I'm talking about?"

I shake my head, but the interest must show in my face because I can tell he is enjoying this.

"He's a Charizard."

I cock my head to the side, the silent question written in my body language. I know who he's referring to but I don't quite believe it.

"You can't mean Archer."

"I do, dear heart. He's perfect. And I have some extra information you might find helpful," he pauses and slaps the slowly receding tag into his head. The paper disappears and he sighs happily, as if refreshed. "He is at the hospice as we speak. He arrived there a week ago and hasn't left since. See, there's this little mousey he brought there in sorry shape, and my... Sources tell me that she had gotten in to a tough spot with some local riffraff. Archer saved her ass. She also had a trainer, who has probably made it home by now, most likely with the idea her Pikachu is dead. But the important part that I want you to worry about is the fact that he refuses to leave her side until she is better. Use that. You're a clever fox, and quite the inventor." His eyes travel over my eye patch.

"Fine, I'll think of something. I won't make any promises."

Suddenly, he's much too close. My breath catches in my throat and my heart is beating too loudly. He jeers at me with his jester grin. "There's a good girl," he whispers. I try desperately and fail to block out the rush of flash backs and memories, and his not-so-subtle mind probe. Feelings are stirring in me that haven't wakened in far too long. I bristle and tear away from him. But he smiles even wider knowing he had the desired effect on me.

"Good night Elektra," he chuckles and slaps some coins on the table before phasing out of view. Once I'm sure he's gone, I hop off the bar stool and slink out the door. Stepping out in to the moonlight, I turn my gaze skyward.

"Oh, Arceus, I'm in trouble."

* * *

**A/N: **So there it is. Please read and review! - Ni


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